Scattered Beliefs
by ashoutinthedark
Summary: On the run from her clan Kasumi has gone so far as to cross the ocean, and try to hide in America. Unfortunately, her clan has tracked her even to here.
1. Chapter 1: Chance Encounter

Michael Kresson cursed his luck. Day watch was easy, afternoon watch wasn't bad either. Heck even the dog watch would be preferable to this. The young sailor adjusted his blue digital hat, pulling it low over his eyes. It wasn't perfectly "within regulations", the bill curved down at the edges like you would expect a baseball cap, the bill slightly dingy with sweat and dirt. He glanced at his watch, pressing on the side of it to illuminate the black face, barely glowing in the dark of night. Blue numbers shone for a mere few seconds before going totally dark again, lost in the night. 0417 it had read, another two hours till sunrise, three and a half till he would be relieved, and could go get some well deserved sleep.

The young sailor idly fiddled with the rifle slung about his neck as he walked his path. Ever since an incident in Japan where a series of towers had been blown to pieces, security everywhere seemed to really have stepped up, even back in the States. That included the fence walk he was doing now. "Boundary Patrol", by its official name, was usually tasked to the younger guys, while the senior Non-Commissioned Officers kept the more quiet desk jobs, or patrols with vehicles. Today however, they had been short handed for the last watch.

And as in all things in life, the laws of "Rock, Paper, Scissors" were binding. He had lost, two out of three, and found his name listed next to the fence walk from four to eight. It was a warm night, at least. Not the overbearing heat Virginia could reach during the summer, but a nice warm spring day…and for once, no rain. He looked up, studying the sky for a moment, before sighing as he realized that he couldn't make out a single star…not with the cloud cover. And just like that, the temperamental eastern coast weather changed, and the warm, quiet skies opened up their locks, and unleashed a torrent of rain.

"Feh," he scoffed, ducking his head so that the bill of his cover protected his eyes, and kicked at rock on the path he walked. "Figures."

Still, the sailor had a job to do. Even with the rain pounding down on him, his eyes were sharp and vigilant constantly watching from beneath the low pulled hat.

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Kasumi's feet slipped on the wet grass as she flew across. She felt herself falling, then immediately found how lucky her slip-up had been as a pair of kunai embedded themselves in a tree, passing where the small of her back had been not half a second ago. She rolled, maintaining most of her momentum, and popped back to her feet, continuing her flight. Still, ground had been lost, and her pursuers continued relentlessly. A trio of black shapes moved silently and swiftly behind her, looking to find another opening.

She risked another look back, and caught sight of two of them. Her instincts kicked in, and she raised her arms, bringing out her wakizashi at the last moment to deflect the attack coming from above her. There was a clash of steel, her momentum still carrying her backwards until she came to a rattling halt. A tall, chain link fence pressed against her back, and as she glanced up she saw the telltale spirals of razor wire.

"How…why…" the thoughts ran through her head in a flash. She had run even from Japan, forsaking her homeland in a desperate attempt to no longer have to defend herself from her clansmen, and even here they had tracked her.

Pain flashed through her system, taking full advantage of her mistake and momentary lack of attention, another kunai embedded in her thigh. With an impressive show of strength, she pushed her wakizashi back against the hunter nin's katana. As he stumbled back a step, she stepped forward with him, then gathered her strength in her good leg, and launched herself in a graceful backflip over the fence.

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Mike glanced at his watch again. The blue number 0500 stared back mockingly at him. It had been raining in an absolute downpour for forty five minutes now, and wasn't giving him any hints of giving up. The body armor he wore was getting soaked through, making it heavier than it already was, and pulling at his shoulders.

A blur of motion caught his eye through the rain just up ahead.

"Some animal, probably," he grumbled, but still made his way towards the motion. It was his job, after all, and even with all the rain, and all the grumbling, he still had a great deal of pride in what he did.

As he approached what he thought he had seen moving, a figure clad in some sort of white and red outfit slammed her back into the fence. Another figure holding a Japanese style sword pressed down on the small one she was holding. For a long moment time seemed to stand still as she fended him off, and he wondered why the heck he was witness to a sword fight in the middle of the night, in Virginia of all places. There was a slight cry of pain, and he could almost immediately see the odd knife sticking from her leg, blood leaking around it. What happened after that would forever be ingrained into his mind as the night his life changed.

The girl in the white outfit pushed the other off of herself, and leapt in a back flip that easily cleared the entire height of the fence. Her leg gave out as she landed not six feet from him, falling backwards and collapsing on the ground. Three figures now stood at the other side of the fence, none of the four seemed to have even noticed him yet. There was a flash of movement, and the three now stood on his side of the fence, their eyes glued on the downed girl. One of them slowly pulled out his sword, almost as if he were relishing the moment. His eyes snapped back open to the girl, who just half-sat there, as if resigned to her fate.

It was time to remind them that they had just jumped the fence of an American Military Base.

"**On the ground!"** he roared, the M-16 rifle snapping to his shoulder with an ease that could only have come from years of having it in his hands. **"I said drop your weapons and get your faces on the ground."**

All three of the hunter nin's immediately saw their mistake, the girl's head still hung silently. Without taking his rifle from the three others, he swept sideways, presenting the broad chest of his body armor to them, and maintaining his control of the situation. In a fluid motion that all three nin recognized as impeccable military precision, he knelt next to the girl. His eyes never left the other three, and while they were fast, it was difficult to outrun a bullet from a high-powered rifle.

"Are you ok?"

The girl stayed where she was, half sitting, her eyes on the blade sticking from her leg. What she said next was nothing she had intended to let slip, and for years would wonder why she had at that particular time. The words were nearly impossible to hear, even more so with the pounding rain that soaked through her clothing and deep into her bones.

"Help me."

The sailor stood back up in a fluid, practiced motion, his weapon never wavering. His ice blue eyes had the glint of someone who had seen death before, and was not afraid to see it again.

"Get on your faces." He growled, his thumb instinctively snapping the selector on the side of the rifle from "safe" to "fire". "Get. On. Your. Faces. Or I will shoot."

The center hunter made a quick motion with his hand. In a coordinated effort, the other two leapt backwards over the fence, while he rushed in, raising his katana over his head.

Kasumi watched in horror as her foolishness once again involved another innocent bystander, another person who had no quarrel with her clan would die because she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going. She choked out one last tearful word as she watched the hunter's sword descend.

"No…"

_A/N: so I really wanted to just end the chapter here, but this feels really, really short. So while I will end this first chapter here, know that I am already writing the second, and the time difference between the posting of this and the next will be stupid amounts of short._


	2. Chapter 2: A place to lay my Head

Kasumi watched in horror as the blade arced sharply downwards towards yet another bystander who would fall because of her.

"…No…" she whispered, her tears falling freely as she turned her eyes from the scene.

There was a sharp clang of metal against metal, and she snapped her attention back to the scene. The young man held his gun in both hands over his head, blocking the swing. There was a grimace on his face, looking back with sharp eyes against the ninja's cold response.

"Wide open." He growled, and swung the butt of his rifle down, smashing it into the hunter nin's face. There was a snap as the plastic hook that held his rifle to the harness he wore broke. The nin stumbled back a step, but the sailor was relentless. He brought the butt of the gun violently down on the man's shoulder, the crack of a collarbone clearly heard. Metal flashed as the hunter swung his blade single handed, only to be countered by the metal of the rifle. The blade slid down the barrel, biting into the sailor's hands, but he never lost his grip of the rifle. He turned fully around, bringing the butt of the weapon into the hunter's chest, followed by a powerful kick that pushed the nin a step or two away. With an audible growl, the hunter reset himself, only to realize his mistake.

Michael Kresson, Master at Arms Second Class, had reset as well, the butt of the rifle tucked tightly into the pocket of his shoulder. The hunter's hand flashed silently, and pair of throwing stars arced gracefully through air. One hit his armor, the metal tip shattering against the hardened ceramic body armor he wore. The other grazed his arm, tearing open the sleeve of his uniform and leaving a bloody line where it passed.

The report of the rifle was deafening in comparison. The barrel blazed to life, fire escaping the sides of the suppressor at its end. Twice the weapon roared, both rounds finding their home in the center of the nin's chest. With strength that almost wasn't human, the man kept himself on his feet by willpower alone. His glare leveled on the sailor, who still had the rifle tucked into his shoulder.

"Go to hell," the nin spat in heavily accented English.

Mike's weapon roared one last time, a hole appearing in the man's head, just above his eyes. Without so much as another sound the nin fell.

The sailor dropped to a knee, clutching his torn open shoulder with one hand, while blood ran from his other. The girl still hadn't moved, staring wide-eyed at him.

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Kasumi couldn't believe her eyes. There were rumors that the American Military was on another level as compared to Japan's self defense force, but to have someone with the skill to go hand to hand with a Ninja of her clan, and win just walking perimeter guard… the concept of what their fabled special forces teams could do terrified her. It wasn't until then that she realized that he was bleeding, and her hand came up towards him, as she tried to reach out to him.

She watched as his hand left his shoulder, pulling a black handset from behind his back.

"Cog, West Rover," he spoke into it. "Forced entry over the fence at location three tac three oh six. Shots fired, shots fired. One confirmed kill, two no longer in vicinity, one injured civilian."

"_Cog copies,"_ the static on the handset broke as he was responded to. _"Confirm status."_

The bill of the sailors cap covered his eyes, but she could tell by the grimace on his face he was in pain.

"I'm hit, Marshall. Might want to send a third bus for me."

At that, his head dropped farther, and he tumbled over his weapon, crashing gracelessly to the ground.

"NO!" Kasumi screamed, ripping the kunai out of her own leg, and hobbling over to where he was.

"It was just a scratch!" she panicked, rolling him onto his back. "You shouldn't be down like this! Not after what you just did for me!"

Her eyes locked on his arm, where the star had ripped through his shirt. Angry purple lines ran up and down his arm. The realization nearly took her breath away. It was a poison that the assassins of her clan used. It would not kill him…not right away, but the paralysis set in rather quickly from it. Tears formed in her eyes as she collapsed on top of him, flashing lights quickly rushing towards them as the response team raced to the scene. Her tears joining the rain that ran down her face.

"_West rover, COG, repeat your last?"_ His radio blared. _"West Rover, COG, did you say you had been hit?"_

…

"_West rover, COG…"_

…

"_West Rover, COG!"_

…

"_Mike!"_

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An audible gasp flooded the room as his eyes jerked open. His combat reflexes kicked back in nearly immediately, as he jerked himself to a sitting position. He felt something pull from his hand, and something ripped from his chest. Around him alarms started blaring, and an annoying, steady tone pounded into his head. Instantly, a trio of people showed up in his room, two male nurses and one female, although by the looks of it the female could have taken both the guys on her own.

"MA Two, lie down!" she demanded in a voice that would not be contradicted. "You are not to be moving around without my explicit permission!"

Slowly taking in his surroundings, Mike allowed his adrenaline to cool off, and carefully laid back down, his head swimming from the sudden motion.

"The girl…" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

One of the two males looked up from the clipboard he was reading from. "Your chief thought you might ask that. She's in a holding cell back on base."

"She ok?"

The young man nodded. "They took her over to Sewell's Point and got her leg stitched up. She should be fine in a few weeks."

"Good. They catch those two that got away?"

This time, he was shaking his head. "Didn't tell me, but since the base is still on lockdown I'm guessing not."

"I have to get back there…"

"Lay down," the female interjected again. "You had enough poison in your system to kill an f-ing horse. You got lucky though, there was enough of that shit left on whatever that thing was that hit you for Doc to make an antivenom for it."

Another voice interrupted them, bringing all their attention to the door. "Kresson, you're awake, good!"

One of his best friends in the station was Jacob Marshall. They had both transferred to the command about the same time, and just by sitting through classes together, they had managed to become good friends.

Compared to Marshall, Mike was tiny. He stood a good foot and a half taller, was as wide as a football lineman, and solid muscle. His pearly white grin stood out against his dark skin, and as intimidating as he was, the guy was as good natured as they came. He stood there in his uniform, the smile not reaching his eyes however.

"Old man wants you back at base to debrief. He wanted me to come get you as soon as you woke up."

The nurse stomped her foot, calling attention to herself. "He's not going anywhere. Not until I get the doctor's release….orders…"

Her voice trailed off as Marshall shoved a paper in her face.

"He's been released back to us. Doc already sent the details of the antivenom back over to the clinic there by base, so if anything comes up, we can take him back over there."

The nurse sighed in resignation. "Whatever. At least don't make him walk out there while I can still see you. I'll have one of the orderlies bring you a wheelchair."

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Mike stepped out of his Commanding Officer's office. After retelling the story at least a dozen times, the old man had finally agreed to let him go see the girl that he had just last night put his life on the line for. He carried a folder in his hand, with red "SECRET" stamps on the front and back of it. His steps carried him with a purpose over to the brig, where his bandaged hand gingerly pushed the door open.

"Hey Kresson!" the greetings came from a civilian security contractor who was not much older than he was, sitting behind the desk. "Glad to see you up and about, you had us worried last night man."

"Man, I don't know what happened, Doc says some kind of poison. I dunno. Hey, what cell's that girl being held in?"

"Ow dude, poison? What the heck," the guard said, shaking his head as he ran his finger down a list. "Cell 11, in the door and hang a left, it'll be on the right hand side."

The guard looked up from his paperwork, and at the sailor. "She's a strange one. Her outfit, her whole look."

Mike raised an eyebrow at that.

"She won't talk to us about anything, but she keeps asking for you. Hasn't even touched her food we gave her for breakfast and lunch."

Mike dropped the folder on the desk, where the guard looked at it in surprise.

"Her release orders," he stated flatly. "I'll make sure she's escorted off the base."

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Kasumi knelt on the mattress in the small cell she had been in since the night before. What had boggled her was the polite treatment she received even from the prison guards. They didn't yell or threaten, but neither did they ignore her. Every one of them had stopped during their rounds to make sure she was ok, then made their way on, stopping at every occupied cell.

There was a buzz, and the electronic lock on her door popped open. Instead of bolting for it, like her instincts told her, she simply waited, kneeling on the mattress. A moment later, she heard the door creak open. Her eyes shot wide when she recognized the young man in front of her.

"Got your release papers all in order," he stated, taking note of her bandaged leg.

For a long moment they just looked at one another, him waiting with a half-cocked grin on his face, and her slack jawed looking back.

"I have to escort you off the base, but you are free to go." He said, his grin turning into a warm, genuine smile. "I'm just glad you're ok."

He stepped easily into the cell, and fully into her view. She could see his bandaged shoulder through the cut in the uniform he was still yet to change, as well as his hand wrapped up tight.

"Come on," he said, offering her his good hand. "Let's get you out of here."

Kasumi rose gracefully, unfolding herself from her kneeling position and onto her feet. The pain in her leg was nearly brutal, but she refused to let this kindness go without response. She took a single step forward, and her fake smile instantly melted away as her leg gave out. She gasped in pain, and braced herself for the shock of hitting the floor.

A shock that never came. She felt a warmth around her, and she found herself with her head against the chest of the blue camo uniform. His right arm had hooked under her own, and caught her up against himself. For a long moment she just stayed there, the gentle touch of another human addicting to her. Tears formed in her eyes, and her fists closed on the blue material as her heart broke, grief washing over her like a wave.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, over and over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Ssssshhhhhhhhhhh," his voice was gentle as he shushed her. "It's ok. It's ok."

They stayed standing there until they heard a something rattle on the bars of the cell door. The guard stood there looking at the two, wondering just what to make of them.

"You know her, Kresson?" he asked.

"Not at all," the sailor responded quietly, cupping her head back into his chest with his good hand. "Not at all."

The guard simply shook his head, and continued on with his rounds.

"Come on, no use standing in a jail cell," Mike said, trying to make his voice sound light. "Why don't you let me give you a ride home."

Kasumi's head bobbed automatically, and she felt him turn with her, supporting her so she wouldn't have to put weight on her bad leg. Together they hobbled out of the cell and towards the front door.

"Kresson!" The desk guard caught him as he walked by. "Hey, your chief just called, he said go ahead and take the next seven days off. You're not going to be worth much while on light duty around here right now anyways, and your heroics last night have to have earned you something. Your Chief says just call in to muster in the mornings, and we'll see you next week."

Mike nodded, and said his thanks as he helped the now ex-prisoner out the door.

As they crossed the parking lot, it occurred to Kasumi that while not everyone back in Japan had a vehicle, here it was considered odd to not have one. Her thoughts wandered as they moved through all the cars, everything from shiny, nearly manicured black Cadillacs to a cheap Honda with the doors nearly falling off. A set of keys jingled in the sailor's hand, calling her attention back as he reached for the door of an old pickup truck. The door opened with a protest, and he quickly reached in, wincing as he pulled the stitches in his shoulder, but used his bandaged hand to brush off a few empty plastic bottles, and some sandwich wrappers on the floor. He winced again as he grabbed a handful of clothing and threw it onto the narrow bench behind the seat.

"Sorry about the mess," he said sheepishly, blushing a bit. "Don't often have anyone else in my truck, I guess I kinda let it go."

Kasumi just smiled sweetly, and with his help got herself up into the seat. She reached out, and carefully pulled the old door shut, hearing it click as she got it close, but couldn't get it all the way closed. Again, with a sheepish grin, Mike popped the door back open, warned her to watch her hands, and slammed it shut. Careful as to not pop her own stitches, Kasumi slid towards the middle of the long bench seat, and leaned over to unlock the door on the other side. She was still leaning over and trying to pull the lock up when she heard somebody kick something on the outside of the truck. The lock popped up, and Mike swung the door open. For a brief moment, his eyes went wide, before he turned himself away.

It took Kasumi a long moment to realize what had just happened, until she looked down. Her little ninja outfit wasn't the most conservative piece of clothing in the first place, and right now she was giving him a first class peep show right down her cleavage.

Kasumi jumped upright with a little "Eeeep" escaping from her lips. She was desperately looking for a way to cover herself up when a bundle of blue cloth landed in her lap. She glanced next to her, and saw that gentle smile again.

"It's just my sweatshirt for when we work out, but it's clean and it's something, right?"

She nodded fiercely, and spread it open on her lap. On the front was a cheesy yellow circle with the navy's logo printed within the rope-looking border, while the back simply spelled the words NAVY in yellow and reflective materials. She smiled, and pulled the sweatshirt over her head, pulled the hood down on it and her hair out through the top.

Kasumi grimaced a little when she felt her fingers running through her hair. She had to look a mess…and how long had it been since she had even had a bath, or even a shower for that matter…

"Mike," he offered out of the blue. "Mike Kresson. I realized I'd never offered you my name, I figure it's only polite."

The girl next to him smiled back. "I'm Kasumi."

"So, Kasumi," he said slowly, turning the key in the ignition, and bringing the old truck to life, "I offered to take you home, care to tell me how to get there?"

The smile fell off of the girl's face, as she looked into the cluttered floorboards.

"Just…away from here if you could," she mumbled.

It was Mike's turn to change his look, as a confused mask fell over his face. "Anywhere? Wouldn't you rather take me to where you're living?"

"I don't have a place to live," Kasumi sighed. "I don't have a job, I don't have a house, I don't have…"

She stopped cold when he hand found her shoulder. That warm, inviting smile again found his face.

"Ok, I've got it," he declared.

With the crunch of gravel, the old truck rumbled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Kasumi sat silent as she watched him deftly weave out through traffic and down the highway. He seemed to have a plan in mind, and she just sat quietly, waiting to see where it would end up.

But where they did end up surprised her. The old truck pulled up in front of a surprisingly nice set of apartments. She gingerly stepped out of the truck, leaning against the side for support as she remembered to slam the door shut, then let Mike offer his shoulder to help her. They made their way up a flight of stairs, and to the only door on the balcony. It took him a moment of fumbling with his keys before he was able to unlock the door, which is about the same time she realized where they were.

"This is…yours?"

Mike nodded. "For now at least. The Navy moves us around so much that it's hard to buy a place, but I'll probably stay here for the next two or three years. Maybe longer if I can find another command here when it's time for me to transfer."

The two stepped through the threshold, Mike still helping her to walk.

"Wow," was all she said.

The apartment was enormous by Japanese standards. Most single people lived in a small one or two bedroom apartment. By Japanese standards…this was almost wasteful. They had walked into a living room, with a couch and recliner facing a television recessed into the wall. A small window in the wall looked over a sink and into the small kitchen that looked complete with a full stove and oven. An was back a little ways from there as well. A hallway lead down deeper into the apartment, and there was even another set of stairs that went up to a second floor.

"There's a bathroom down the hallway on the left," Mike explained. "My bedroom is in the back, there's another bedroom across from the bathroom. There's a bathroom upstairs as well, but I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do with that all up there. Maybe rent it out to a roommate. It's got a nice big closet, but there's no doors except to the bathroom, I'd hate for it to get awkward."

Kasumi just stared around her. Even back in her village, the chief's house was not this nicely laid out. Plush carpet covered the entire house, the couch looked large and inviting…

A thud echoed next to her. In staring around, she had stepped away from her sailor, and was leaning quietly against the wall. One of his large, heavy boots was laying on it's side on the floor as he sat on the stairs, unlacing the other.

"If you don't mind," he said as he stood, offering her his place on the stairs, and motioning towards his boots.

In her moment of being baffled by the size of the apartment, she had forgotten her manners. It took her a moment to get her sandal from the foot on her wounded leg, but easily slipped out of the other. Again taking Mike's arm, he led her over to the couch where she could sit. It was like nothing else she had ever been on. Even being the daughter of the head of the clan, she still slept on tatami mats, ate while sitting on the floor, and was all in all very used to "traditional" Japanese culture. Since running from the clan, things had been even harder for her. This couch, however… she felt she could just stay there, revel in its softness forever.

There was a thud in front of her, and she took a moment to stare at the cardboard box.

"Pizza?" he offered. "I can warm it up if you'd like, usually eat mine cold though after I get off a late shift."

She followed his lead, and lifted a slice from the box, sniffing it carefully before taking the tiniest bite out of the end of it. She tried…she tried really hard not to show how hungry she was, but after a second bite, her resolve crumbled. Mike sat there, that gentle smile on his face as he watched her all but inhale three quarters of a pizza. She got down to the last slice, reached for it…stopped… then slid the box his way.

"I have eaten all your food," she apologized quietly, looking down again. "I at least owe you the last piece."

With that smile, he pushed the box back towards her. "I'll find something else. Go ahead."

The offer wasn't refused, although Kasumi did put much more effort into slowing her eating down with this last bit, savoring the food. A brief thought ran through her head that was quickly banished away.

'When will I ever be treated with this level of hospitality again?'

"Umm," she hummed, looking up to where Mike was sitting in the recliner. "Can I trust you?"

The sailor smiled back, leaning back in his seat. "Well I guess that's up to you. I can tell you anything I want, but in the end, it will be your choice anyways."

The Kunoichi nodded, making up her mind. "Mike Kesson," she stated. "I trust you. Please don't tell anyone about this."

Slowly, she unwrapped the bandages from around her thigh, revealing the ugly, scabbed red line where the blade had been in her leg. She looked down at in concentration for a few moments, then her hands flew through a series of strange poses, until a faint green glow rose from her leg. Mike watched in astonishment as the scabs peeled away, and the ugly scar on her leg healed itself up without even a scar.

Kasumi felt heat rushing to her face when she saw that Mike was still staring at her bare leg. "Ummm…"

"SORRY!" he exclaimed, jerking his head away.

"Baaaka," she slipped back to native tongue, her face burning. "L-let me…let me help you too."

Mike didn't know what to say, but the girl was determined to _help_ him, and he honestly hoped it worked as well for him as it just had for her. He carefully shrugged off the top of his uniform, draping it across the arm of the chair, and reached through the hole in his t-shirt to start picking off the bandage taped over his shoulder.

"Y-your…your shirt too…" Kasumi mumbled. "I can't…I'm not good enough to knit your injuries with cloth in the way. Not yet."

Gingerly, he removed his shirt, then peeled the bandage off his shoulder, before starting to unwind the one around his hand. Both wounds were cleanly cut, faint traces of black lines following his veins from the one on his shoulder. She started with his hand, her hands repeating their lightning fast motions, before the glow came from his hand, the wound mending itself right before his eyes.

"Amazing," he mused, watching the process.

She moved from there to his arm the black lines of the poison receding along with the wound vanishing.

"Kasumi," he said. "You are an amazing woman."

"T-thank you," she said quietly. "Just please don't tell anyone."

"There's a bathtub and a shower in the bathroom down the hall and to the left. Help yourself to anything in there, although I do apologize, there's no soap or anything for a beautiful woman like yourself, just what I use."

Kasumi smiled sweetly. "It's ok. I have been… it's been so long, even just water would be amazing. I will try not to use too much of what is yours."

Mike returned the smile, "Go ahead, use all of it if you have to. I have more in the bathroom upstairs, and I can always pick up some more later."

The kunoichi nodded, and for the first time really took in her host. He wasn't bad looking, by any stretch, and his features were quite striking. He obviously took good care of himself, both by military standards and perhaps beyond. His hair was a dark brown, and his eyes…his eyes were this striking ice blue, something rarely seen in her country, and even more so with his dark hair.

She caught herself staring before he noticed, and snapped her head away.

"I'm going to the bath," she squeaked, and started down the hall. She turned once more as she heard him move, and saw him bending over the coffee table, collecting the box and sweeping the crumbs into it. Her breath hitched in her throat as he stood, and she saw his back though.

More than half his back was covered in deep, jagged scars. They ran up his back, barely down the back of his left arm, and down below his belt. Kasumi turned back, and let herself into the bathroom. American baths were much different than they were in Japan. It was very utilitarian, with a sink, a toilet, and a showerhead that pointed down into the bathtub. But she was far from complaining. She dumped her clothing on the floor, but carefully folded the sweatshirt and set it on the corner of the sink.

She had adjusted the water so it was as hot as she could stand it, and by the time she had her hair tied up, she was able to sink into the tub. Again, it wasn't as deep as what she was used to, and she had to bend her legs just to fit into the tub, but as relaxing as the fresh water was she wasn't going to dare even think a complaint.

There was a knock at the door, and she could hear Mike's voice from the other side. "Sorry that I don't have something more for you to wear, but there's a pair of sweats and a t-shirt I think you should be able to make fit outside the door."

She heard him moving down the hall, and allowed herself a smile, genuinely enjoying those for a few blissful minutes.

_A/N: I know, rescuing Kasumi has been done far too much. Instead of original ideas though, I'm going for original characters. Another note about how I write, I have a general direction and a grand plan, but I don't follow an outline. My stories have a tendency to write themselves, and I let my fingers guide me as I press towards my goal._

_Constructive feedback is always welcome, and I do try to answer any and all questions you might have, whether it's from the next Author's Note, or directly back to you._

_Fair winds and following seas to you all!_


	3. Chapter 3: Acceptance?

Kasumi heard the sound of the running water stop, and let a smile creep its way onto her face. She was quietly puttering through the kitchen, wondering just how this young man survived. She had found a plastic jug of milk, a half-eaten bag of potato chips, two or three microwaveable meals, and a pitcher of water.

It almost made her wonder how he stayed in shape.

"Sorry," he apologized again.

She startled, not having heard him leave the bathroom, and turned to face him. He was dressed in nothing more than a non-descript t-shirt and jeans, his hair still damp from the shower, but the military buzz was short enough that no matter what he did, nothing changed about how it sat on his head.

"I'm really not home all that much. I tend to eat at the Galley on base most the time. Guess I'm going to have to pick some stuff up if we want to eat tonight."

Kasumi stood, looking out the window as she did. "Can I come with you?"

"Of course," Mike smiled, taking her in. She looked…odd in the attire he had given her. The shirt was baggy and hung lopsided on her, and the running pants were bunched unevenly around her narrow waist. "We might want to find you some decent clothing while we are out as well."

The Kunoichi just shook her head. "I can't impose any more on you than I already have…"

"Nonsense," Mike interrupted. "I have someone here on in my own home that needs help. I've never been one to turn someone like that out."

"But…"

"No buts."

Kasumi opened her mouth to protest again, snapped it closed, and followed him out the door.

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They had barely made it in the door before the young Kunoichi stopped dead in her tracks. The building had looked large from the outside, but inside it was just…vast.

Mike had taken them to the Navy Exchange near his base, saying they could find everything they needed at the one location. She had expected it to be rows of shops along the lines of what she was used to back in her home country, not one enormous store.

"…Woah," was all she was able to initially mutter.

Mike hadn't noticed her stop until he was a few steps ahead, and turned to look back to her. His movements broke her from her daze, and she lightly stepped to catch up with him.

"How do you even find things in here?" she wondered aloud, bringing a small chuckle from her escort.

"Well, you just keep coming back, and eventually you find your way around through it all."

She shook her head as he seemed to easily navigate through the store, until she found herself standing in the midst of a sea of clothing.

"I," he said, motioning towards a bench, "Am going to go take a seat over there. You are going to figure out what all you need or want. Find enough for about a week or so, and come find me."

Kasumi looked about to protest, but he waved her off, and turned to where he said he would be sitting.

As the girl lost herself in the clothing, Mike kicked his feet out in front of him, and leaned back against the wall. His eyes were slipping closed when the sound of cloth settled next to him.

"Bad choices," a feminine voice intoned next to him, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "You should have dropped her off like she asked, and let it be."

The sailor didn't bother opening his eyes, folding his hands comfortably on his chest. "I figured you wouldn't have left yet. There were two of you who got away."

"Two…!?" The news seemed to come as a shock to the new voice. "But they weren't…"

"There were three," he continued, causing her to jerk her head towards him. "They jumped my perimeter fence chasing this 'one I should have just dropped off', and when confronted one of them attacked me. I didn't have a choice, and for that I apologize."

The girl next to him nervously tucked a strand of her unnaturally purple hair back into the ball cap she was wearing. "There's…you're…what are you apologizing for?"

Mike sighed, and leaned forward, still not looking at her, but studying the ground. "For killing one of your companions. I asked him to lay his weapons down, but he chose to attack instead. Didn't have a whole lot of a choice."

"There's no some grunt in the military killed a highly trained ninja," she spat.

"Ninja, huh?"

She slapped both hands over her mouth. Had that runaway not even told him what they were?

"That's interesting," he continued. "I was wondering what was up with all the swords and skin tight outfits. Still, if it's his honor you're worried about, it did take three rounds to bring him down."

His voice had lowered to a growl at the end of his statement, making a point of how little it really took to end the hunter's life, and it left very little doubt in Ayane's mind that this man was maybe just a little beyond what would be considered a normal grunt in the military. This man was deadly.

"Why her?" she asked, a little puzzled.

"You have to understand. The Navy is no longer an aggressive warfighting force like we used to be. We are defenders, but we are defenders of all those who ask of us, not just our own country. Our mission as of late has been global defense. I take that to heart."

"So…" she was still a little confused.

"It's simple. She was being pursued by a hostile force, she was injured, and she asked for help."

The girl next to him settled back into the bench they were sitting on, not catching an exactly intimidating feel coming from him. She had a feeling that if he were to do anything, it would be in reaction and not aggression. "Did you realize the trouble you could bring on your head by helping someone like her?"

Mike let out a long sigh, finally looking at the woman next to him. She seemed about Kasumi's age, but had wild red eyes, and her hair, though it was tucked into a ball cap that did not seem to fit who she was at all, was obviously purple. Whether through die or what, Mike couldn't decide.

"Doesn't matter," he responded, "I knew I was putting my life on the line when I signed up for this job. So I might have to risk a little more on a personal level for helping someone else. Just means I'm doing what I love to do that much better."

"You are an enigma, Michael Kresson," she said, purposefully using his full name while her eyes rolled closed to mimic his pose from earlier. "I can't involve you in this just yet, but as soon as I get word, don't think you'll be spared just because you're not her."

With that, she stood, and started making her way towards the exit, tucking that determined strand of purple hair back up into her cap. Mike caught her wrist as she walked by, the controlled strength in his grip surprising her. His hand barely touched her wrist, but might as well have been a steel cuff to try to pull out of.

"You know my name, would you do me the favor of telling me yours?" he asked, staring right into her eyes.

With a snap of her arm, she broke his grip and pulled her arm away, continuing towards the door. Her voice humored as she answered.

"No."

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It was several hours later by the time they had made it back to Mike's apartment. Kasumi had insisted on picking out several things specifically from the Commissary. She had been in just as much awe of the massive grocery store as she had the Exchange when they first walked in, and had picked several items out of the 'International' aisle, things she was used to, he had guessed.

Now, however, her reasoning behind picking certain things out was a little more apparent. She had shooed him out of the kitchen not moments after they had put the groceries away, donned an apron that she had picked up with her clothing, and set to work with a focused determination.

Mike was taking the opportunity to relax a little, music drifting quietly from where his laptop sat on the coffee table, next to where his feet where propped up. In his hands was an old, dog-eared book that he had picked up from the library a week ago, and had yet to finish.

He wasn't getting much reading done at the moment though. His mind kept going back to the purple-haired girl that had confronted him while they were out. He had debated the whole trip home as to whether he should ask Kasumi about it or not, but still was yet to open his mouth.

It was now or never though, no use putting it off.

"So I ran into someone while you were shopping earlier," he started. "She warned me to stay away from you."

There was a clatter in the kitchen as the spatula she had been using slipped from her hand.

"Some girl with purple hair," he continued, now listening closely for her reaction. "Is there something I should know about, or be concerned about?"

"Umm…" Kasumi started, letting her voice drift off nervously. "Dinner's ready."

Mike turned the book face down next to his computer, and made his way over to the table, where she was just finishing setting out the food on the table. What she had made looked like a feast to him, but it may just have been the layout, with everything on its own dish.

There was a bowl of some kind of soup or stew, a healthy sized piece of fish, a bowl of rice, and some kind of vegetable mixture.

"It smells amazing," he complimented as she took her seat. She had found a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks in one of his drawers, probably from a takeout place he would have ordered from before. He found silverware he was familiar with by his plates, however.

She waited patiently as he lifted the first bite to his mouth.

"Kasumi, wow. This is incredible."

A smile turned the corners of her mouth up, and a blush set on her face, but was quickly chased away by his earlier question.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she started, bringing his attention from the food and back to her. "I never should have taken you offer to come here. It could be very dangerous for you."

Her eyes dropped down to her own food, where she had yet to even taste it.

"I am from the Mugen Tenshin clan of ninja in Japan, or I was until I ran away from them. I made the choice of my own to pursue some…bad people who had done some things horribly wrong to someone close to me. My clan was against it, so I defied them and ran away."

Mike was listening closely, his own fork set back down so as to give her his full attention.

"I was able to accomplish what I had set out for, but at a cost. You see, defying the clan forced the elders to exile me, and while this might simply be a mark of dishonor on most clans, ours is… quite secretive. What I did to heal you and I is one of the reasons, but not the only one. There are things that I…that I shouldn't talk about. The only way out form our clan is death. I have been pursued since then by those who I used to call as close to family…"

A tear rolled down her cheek as painful memories wracked her mind.

"And some who used to be family. The one you met today, she is my sister, and also the one in charge of returning my body to the clan."

"Returning your body?" Mike asked.

"Doesn't matter whether I am alive or dead to be returned, but that my body is returned, so that those who oppose us cannot gain knowledge from it. I'm afraid just by bringing me into your home puts your life in great danger."

"This is ridiculous," Mike said almost nonchalantly. "You quit your job, and they want to kill you for it? Buncha bullshit."

Kasumi looked him, confused. "It's our way…"

"You way is dumb."

Mike casually picked back up his silverware, going back to his meal while it was still hot.

"Stick around," he continued. "We'll figure something out, we'll get them off your back, and we'll start you over so you can make decisions for yourself."

"But, it's dangerous!"

The glint in his eye startled her, immediately reminding her of the night before.

"So am I."

As fast as it was there, the glint vanished, and a good natured smile came back to his face.

"You should eat while it's still hot. You've made an amazing meal, it would be a shame for it to go to waste."

Nodding, Kasumi picked up the cheap, fast food chopsticks she had found, separated them with practiced ease, and daintily picked at her meal, showing much more restraint than she had before.

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It was late at night by the time Mike and Kasumi finally decided it was time to turn in. Mike had retired to his room with a wave, after pointing Kasumi to where she could sleep for the night.

For a long time, the Kunoichi stood in the hallway, looking at the closed door that was to be her room. There was nothing keeping her here, nothing tying her down. It was just a few steps to the front door, and she could protect this young man.

Her hand reached out towards the front door of the apartment, almost as if it was trying to run away without her…then with a shake of her head, she brought it all the way up, untying the ribbon from her long hair. Her other hand reached to the door next to her, and let herself into the bedroom.

It wasn't anything fancy, plain white walls, shuttered blinds covering the window, plain beige carpet, and a full-sized dresser standing off to one side. However what caught her eye was the full-sized western bed that dominated the majority of the small room. It would have been wasteful for the small Japanese apartments she was familiar with, but this whole room was meant for nothing other than just being a room for the bed and a dresser.

The oversized pants and shirt were folded respectfully, and set on the dresser, the pink nightshirt she put on falling below her knees. Finally, she sat down on the bed, pulling her wakizashi from where it lay atop the dresser, and retrieving a small cloth she kept just for this purpose. She drew the blade slowly, inspecting the weapon for any blemish as she removed it, then set it on her lap while polishing it with the cloth.

It wasn't something that needed to be done as often as she did, but the monotonous motions were relaxing to her.

"How long can I even stay here," she whispered to herself. "I don't want to put him in danger, and Ayane already knows how to find us, no doubt she's been tracking us since we left the stores this afternoon."

The sword was flipped over as she turned her attention to the other side.

"It's just…I want to believe that he's telling the truth, and that somehow he can do something. I don't want to run away anymore, but I… I don't want to die."

A tear dropped on her blade, lingering a moment before she rubbed the cloth over it, erasing its existence from the steel.

"I miss my sister. I miss my brother. I just want to be a family again."

She returned the blade to its sheath, and placed it back on the dresser, before succumbing to the temptation of the soft bed she had been sitting on. She slid under the sheets and blankets, pulling them up to her nose as she sunk into the mattress, sighing as it felt like it was cuddling her. While it wasn't something she should be getting used to, it was something she would enjoy for the night. Besides, Mike had mentioned something about not being brought into the fight, so that would mean his house was off-limits while he was on the premises. Her thoughts muddled together as sleep took her, and for the first time in a very, very long time, her sleep was quiet, undisturbed and restful.

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Morning found Mike's bed empty. Kasumi stared through his bedroom door and at it for a long moment before realizing what it meant. If he had stepped out, she was fair game to the hunters. Immediately on guard, she grabbed her wakizashi without flourish, and slipped like a ghost from the room. Her feet didn't make a noise on the soft carpet as she slipped down the hall, her ears perking as a series of pops echoed from up the stairs.

She slipped up the stairs like a cat, without noise or disrupting anything, only to find Mike's back to her as he let loose a flurry of blows into a heavy training bag. She stood quietly as she watched his routine for a moment.

Mike's attacks were strange to the kunoichi. They didn't follow any known pattern she had seen before, and seemed to be a combination of both defensive motions in tandem with offensive attacks. Even in the Dead or Alive tournaments, she hadn't seen anyone fight with this style.

It was…violent, to say the least.

She watched where his hands connected on the bag. He was aiming for soft targets while creating openings into the same in the same motions. Throat, stomach, knees, groin… the way he was fighting would not be acceptable in any tournament there was.

Which is when it occurred to her. This wasn't a fighting style. This was life or death for him, every time. He wasn't a tournament fighter, and he wasn't designed to be something that one could hold back with. She watched his footwork as he struck. Two or three blows, and his feet would shift.

He was intent on killing an opponent that quickly? Three more blows rained down on the bag, and his feet shifted again. Dead or not, where he hit the bag would have incapacitated anyone he was up against.

His fighting style was never intended for a ring, that's why she had never seen it before. It was a combat style for incapacitating ones enemy and quickly moving on to the next. It wasn't fancy, it wasn't elegant, but it was very straight forward and brutal.

And the weight of his fists as they connected to the bag knew that even trying to block the blow would still be incredibly painful.

"Good morning," she ventured softly.

Mike dropped his gloved fists from the stance he was in, and grabbed a towel that hung across the bar for a bench press. She could see how hard he had been working by the wet marks that ran down the back of his shirt. He had wiped his face by the time he turned, but his dark, short hair was damp and matted down still.

"Good morning," he replied. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Kasumi shook her head. "That was the best sleep I have had in years," she admitted honestly.

Mike's eyebrow raised in question.

"Ayane told you yesterday that you are not allowed to be considered a target, or allowed to be involved yet. Since she informed you that she couldn't involve you, by our clan laws she cannot involve you until she informs you otherwise. It would be dishonorable to her."

"So…"

"Involving you also involves your property when you are there. Your house is the first place I haven't had to worry about being attacked in my sleep for four years."

"And you say she has to inform me again before I can be involved?"

"Yes," Kasumi nodded.

"Well, I'm already off work for the week to heal, but since you took care of that, we can take some time to figure things out."

Kasumi nodded, while Mike was finally noticing the rest of what was going on. How she carried her blade, the night-shirt she wore, and her disheveled look.

"So uh… what's with the get-up?" he questioned.

Kasumi looked down, looking at her short sword in her hand. "I…umm… I thought you had stepped out, which would open me back up. Guess I panicked a little."

"Yeah, I guess so, huh."

The kunoichi bowed slightly. "Excuse me," she announced abruptly, then turned her way down the stairs.

Mike shrugged, and turned back to the bag, tightening his padded gloves again. It was five minutes later when he heard her behind him again.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Mike turned away from the bag again. She had changed into a pair of black running pants that had a single light blue stripe running down the side, and a blue t-shirt of the same shade.

"Feel free," he offered. "I was just about to push some iron for a bit, so if you need the bag, go ahead."

Kasumi nodded, and started stretching out, moving in ways that would make a ballerina jealous. Mike on the other hand, shook his head, and situated himself beneath the bar on the bench press.

_A/N: So not quite as long as the last chapter, but I feel I made some good progress with this chapter. That and I am a little tired, and can barely see straight anymore. Instead of trying to wait until later, I'm going to go ahead and post this chapter._

_Reviews are always welcomed. This has already had more hits than most other starts I've written lately, but not a single review. Yeah, I know, I'm a review whore. I've accepted that fact though, and am quite comfortable with it._

_Anyways, sorry about the long break between updates. Being out here on the water makes things a little more difficult to find time to write._

_Fair winds and following seas! See you next time._


	4. Chapter 4: Doubts

Ayane gingerly ended the call, slipping the cell phone into a small pouch at her hip. The call she had just finished disconcerted her. Hayate, her half-brother and leader of the Mugen Tenshin clan, had assured her that the backup teams were still on Japanese soil, and she was the only one who had made the trip to America as of yet. He was just as concerned about the claim of other hunter nin in the area as she was, and had given her his word that he would be looking into it.

A sigh escaped from her lips in slight frustration. While Kasumi was in the care of the sailor, there would be no action taken against her as of yet. Hayate was concerned with bringing the foreign military force into clan politics. As of yet, the Ninja clans had been the only military type forces that had not had restrictions placed on them, due to their secrecy and ability to work out of the shadows. The American Government had actually hired a few of the minor clans on occasion.

The problem now was that the US Military had a ninja on a morgue table, and another in the care of one of its sailors. They may not know of the second yet, but due to her own carelessness, at least one person did know. And that was her caretaker.

Hayate did not want to add more blood to the clan's hands by killing the sailor as well, nor did he want to risk the incident with the military. The US had never been exactly well known for restraint in military operations, and no matter how good a ninja might be, you can't kick a cruise missile out of the air.

A giggle escaped from her mouth.

'_Well, maybe Ryu'_ she thought. The Dragon Ninja seemed to be full of inhuman surprises.

The purple-haired kunoichi pulled the stocking cap farther down the back of her neck, hiding her trademark hair, and tucking a determined strand of said hair back into place behind the cap. She took her time to observe from her spot, crouched in the crook of an old tree, looking across the property within the fence line, and in the distance the building that contained her target.

The Naval Hospital was not nearly as heavily guarded as the base had been, but then again this was a hospital, and the other was the largest single military port in the world.

She was sure enough of schedules now to make her move, and under the cloak of night she silently leapt from the tree, landing gracefully beyond the fence. Her steps were quick as lightning, and quiet as a cat.

A flick of her fingers sent one of her kunai sailing through the air, catching perfectly just as the door swung closed, and barely propping it open.

She ghosted through the door, before slipping into a dark corner, and pulling a tightly rolled bundle of cloth from the pack at her waist. There was no hesitation, or even any wasted movement as she unrolled the object, and slipped into the one-piece jumpsuit it unrolled into. With a deliberate zip, her tight fitting, dark purple outfit vanished inside the nondescript dark blue of the jumpsuit, the back of it displaying the contracted cleaning company.

Maps of the hospital had been easy to find, publicly available to those who knew where to look, and she had memorized every hallways. She nervously pulled at her cap again, ensuring that unruly strand of hair was still tucked away, yet nobody even seemed to bother to give her a second glance as she passed by.

A stairway and a long, empty hallway later, she stood outside the basement room labeled as the morgue. She met no resistance as she slipped through the door; a single tech in his office to the side, fast asleep.

It must have been her lucky day.

Only one body was present, laid out on a steel table with a white sheet pulled over it. Silent fingers moved the sheet down, revealing an Asian complexion with a neat bullet hole just above his right eye. Ayane flinched in respect for the marksman. This man had felt no pain when this bullet had killed him, the round turning his brain into mush before the neurons could even register. Her phone was once again in her hand as she snapped pictures of the face. It wasn't anyone she recognized, which both relieved her, and concerned her.

She pulled the sheet down further. No wonder this man could still stand for the seconds after he had been shot. Both bullet holes on his chest were within an inch of one another, both rupturing his heart. He was a dead man, but it would have allowed him scant seconds of life before the lack of blood to his body would have doomed him. Her phone clicked softly twice more as she documented the body, until something caught her eye. Her gloved hand carefully pulled his arm to the side, and the phone clicked once more of a tiny tattoo on his rib cage, and opaque arachnid that she knew all to well the meaning of.

The phone was quickly shoved back into her pocket a she returned the body to its original rest, and lay the sheet carefully over it. Her exit was equally as flawless, as none of the residents and workers at the hospital seemed to notice a single janitor walking the halls.

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It took her an hour to make her way back to where she had set up a small camp, just behind the apartments that the sailor and Kasumi were currently residing in. She had carefully disposed of the uniform in a laundry chute, once washed by those who could care less who had worn it last, all traces of her being in the facility would be neatly cleansed away.

A mission with an end. Even if it was nothing more than a simple infiltration into a site that was not even remotely expecting her, nothing more than taking pictures of a body that couldn't escape if it wanted to, it was always gratifying to finish a mission.

Her hands flew to her phone, where she tapped at it. Instead of sending the pictures across the cell signal, she had found a spot where someone had yet to secure their home's wireless router. It would be harder to trace her through there, and while she was sure nothing was currently tracking her, it never hurt to be safe.

She watched as the pictures uploaded, one little blue line at a time, and were sent off to her home in Japan. After the last one was sent, she tapped out a simple, two word message that she sent as well.

_Black Spider._

With a sigh that gave away how much the discovery had taken out of her, even more than the mission itself, the kunoichi pulled a dark blanket over herself. It would be a cold night, but nothing that her training had not already prepared her for.

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Mike was sitting on the small balcony of his apartment, his feet kicked up and his chair balance precariously on two legs. He held a newspaper in his hands, his eyes lazily followed the words across the page, until the creak of wood brought his attention back to the world around him.

His mind raced as he mentally took note of everything around him. He was between the stairs and the door, Kasumi was inside cooking up breakfast.

"Ayane," he stated softly. Not a question, just a statement.

The girl stopped with her head barely above the bottom of the landing, just able to make eye contact. She hesitated for a moment, but knew it didn't take many of her distinctive features to be able to put a name to her. If he had mentioned his encounter to Kasumi, which he obviously had, it wouldn't have been hard for the runaway to identify her.

The glint of black steel at his ankle was also giving her pause.

"Are you here to tell me that you got permission from you clan to bring me into the hunt?"

Purple hair shook loose from under the ballcap as she denied what he was asking.

"No, quite the opposite in fact," she intoned just above a whisper. "I have actually been denied from involving you, as your government could take it as involving the military, but I'm here for a different reason. I wanted to warn you."

Mike motioned for her to continue up to the top of the stairs, where she settled into the other chair present.

"There's another clan that we have been at odds with for a long time. I'm sure they are the other ninja you had confronted before."

Ayane sighed, and buried her head in her hands, crumpling over.

"They are not as," she paused as she searched for the right word, "discerning as we are. I would not put it past them to continue with their attacks."

Mike nodded silently, his mind grinding to a halt. How had he been lucky enough to be stuck harboring a fugitive that is now wanted by not only one, but two separate ninja clans, who have obviously gone through great expense to track her not only across her own country, but halfway around the world.

"I will do what I can to throw them off of her trail. As much as I need to bring her back to the clan, I also cannot let the secrets her body harbors fall to another clan."

"Still sounds odd," Mike retorted. "Putting your life on the line for someone you are going to have to kill?"

Ayane looked over at the Master at Arms.

"Heck, I'm not even family, and I still know it's better to protect someone than to kill them for not wanting to follow in something they don't believe. I should know, I've seen it enough."

He had the rapt attention of the purple-haired ninja.

"You have to understand, I've seen several tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. I've done convoy patrol, I've done guard duty, and I've done prison duty. I have rounded up prisoners to take them in, and I've seen some that willingly surrender to get out of the situation that they have no other options.

I had this one individual come to me, he was quite high within the cell he operated out of, but his only reason for staying with the terrorists was because they had threatened his wife and children. He begged us to save them, offered us any information he could provide as collateral. You know what happened to him?"

Ayane shook her head, her jaw slightly agape.

"He stepped away from our Humvee, and was shot in the back four times. We returned fire, but we don't know if we got his killer or not. We never did find his wife and kids.

Was it so wrong for him to want to quit that life? A life of death, killing, threats and blackmail?"

"Of course not!" Ayane exclaimed. "He put his life at risks for innocents and…"

"And what," Mike's quiet voice insisted. "Wanted a better life for himself? He was one of the cell's chief bomb makers, or so he said. His mind held as many of their secrets as Kasumi holds yours. How are they so different?"

"But… it's…" Ayane's eyes were harsh, trying to figure out how to defend her clan against this moral assault.

"It's what, different? She wants to leave, so the only option is to die? You're no better than the terrorist cells I fought against in the sand."

"We uphold a code of honor!"

"And so do they. Matter of fact, they follow a whole holy book. Kinda like your scrolls and codes, right?"

Ayane was flabbergasted. She couldn't believe an outsider would so easily compare her noble order to that of the terrorists who attacked military and civilians alike to prove their point. It made her…

"Furious, right?" Mike said, almost as if reading her mind. "They reacted the exact same way when we would speak with their fanatics, luckily for me you seem to be much more subdued about it than they were. They would yell, swing, spit, kick and anything else they could do to physically beat it out of us that we were the ones in the wrong, not them. And we are not much better than they are. We do not abide by their ideals, so we are no better than they are to us in our eyes."

"So what makes you think you are right?" Ayane huffs, glaring out across the road at the apartment across from them.

"Honestly? I don't know if we are right."

That shocked the kunoichi. Someone who fought for the ideals of his country, but didn't know if he supported them or not.

"But even if I don't agree with all of my country's ideals, them allowing me to serve on their behalf lets me uphold my own. I am able to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I can be a piece of our projection of power into places where I've seen it save lives, not take them."

His thumb jabs over his shoulder towards the apartment.

"This is one of those ideals. It's not something my country demands I do, it is something I do for myself. She has been put in a very, very difficult situation. She gave up her family, and knowingly placed a death sentence on her own head by following her own ideals. Ideals that weren't exactly the most misplaced. I have yet to learn all the reasons of why she left your clan, but I do know that it was to save her brother.

Trust me, if something happened to my family, there would be no end of the earth I would not crawl through to save or protect them. I can understand why she did what she did, even if I do not know all the circumstances. I also don't know what to make of you as her sister. Do you truly hate your family that much, or has your unwavering allegiance to your clan blinded you that much?"

Ayane's face was flushed in anger, her jaw set. This man questioned their ways, questioned their morals, and questioned her very reason for being there. Her whole life couldn't be wrong up till this point, it just couldn't. The ideals that she had thrown her whole life into protecting and upholding, it just…he was wrong!

"Still," he said, breaking her from her thoughts. "I do thank you for warning me of the other clan. At least now I will know to be ready for them. As a thank you, would you like to join us for breakfast? Kasumi should be…"

There was the rattle of metal and wood as the door opened, drawing both heads towards door, brunette hair draped behind her neck as Kasumi stuck her head out.

"Breakfast's done!" she said cheerily.

Mike turned his head back to the chair opposite of him, a chair now resting empty. He simply shook his head, and followed the kunoichi back into the apartment.

D-o-A_D-o-A_D-o-A_D-o-A_D-o-A_D-o-A_D-o-A_D-o-A_D- o-A

Ayane sat on top the roof of the apartment, the multiple peaks of the roof hiding her from sight. Her mind was racing as she went back over the conversation she had finished. How could he so easily draw the line between her honorable clan and the fanatical terrorists of the middle east.

But he had drawn the comparison so easily. It wasn't something he attempted to make work together, it just had. That scared her more than anything.

Her phone was in her hand, Hayate's number half dialed before she stopped herself. She wouldn't subject him to her half-believed concerns. He would likely end up admonishing her for her lack of commitment to duty, and tell her to get back to work.

She also knew he wasn't half as bad as she made him out to be. She knew he loved his sister, and appreciated everything that Kasumi had done to bring him back to the clan. Still, the laws of the clan were the laws of the clan.

Her breath hitched at that thought. Flickers of doubt sparked and started growing to a tiny flame in the back of her mind.

Were they really the ones that were in the wrong?

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Mike pulled the chair away from the table before sinking into it. Kasumi was wondering why these western style tables and chairs hadn't been more readily accepted back in her home country. It was certainly much more comfortable than kneeling around a table.

Mike waited for Kasumi to join him to what he was assuming was a traditional Japanese breakfast. There was a helping of fish, a bowl of rice with eggs mixed in, and a small side of vegetables.

"Tomorrow, I'm making breakfast," he announced. "I'll show you how we do this here in the States."

Kasumi smiled sweetly. She knew he appreciated her cooking, even if the fare wasn't something he was used too. She snapped apart another cheap pair of chopsticks, and started into her food. Her host had an unusually concerned look on his face as he ate, but had made a sizeable dent in his meal before he revealed any of it to her.

"So your sister stopped by while I was out front."

Kasumi visibly tensed. "Was it to say that she had permission to bring you into this?"

Mike's head shook. "No, actually she's not allowed to bring me into this. Apparently your clan is afraid of an international incident including our military."

The tension in Kasumi's shoulders slackened ever so slightly.

"What she did want to let me know is that the Black Spider Clan was who attacked you the other day. She doesn't know if they will show the same restraint that your clan is right now. She also said she would be protecting us, something about not letting you fall into the wrong hands."

"That sounds like her," Kasumi mused. "Isn't allowed to kill me yet, so until she gets the option herself, she'll make sure nobody else gets the chance. At least I know my remains will be somewhere near my home."

Mike decided to keep the rest of his conversation with Ayane to himself for now. It wouldn't do either of them any good for him to get her more worked up with the threat of a second ninja clan now looming over their heads.

"You know, maybe we should talk to your national representative up in Washington. It's only a few hours drive, or a train ride up there."

"Why would we do that?" Kasumi asked, curious.

"Political asylum," he explained. "If we can prove that you can be valuable to either your country or ours, we can petition for political asylum, which grants you protection here in America. Who knows, maybe you can even get them to assign me to be your bodyguard."

There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes as he finished the sentence, before lifting another bite to his mouth.

"Would be good for my career," he intoned in a decidedly fake bored tone. "Be the personal military honor guard to some overseas big wig. I mean, it'd be a hassle to have to cater to all her high-falutin' desires and demands, be stuck on a plane for days at a time to spend an afternoon at some beach, and be stuck right back on the plane to fly to who knows where else."

A chopstick nailed him in the forehead, causing him to crack up laughing.

"See!" he exclaimed. "There's those famous international person of power temper tantrums!"

At this point, Kasumi lost it as well. It had been ages since she just had a good laugh, and this one tore from her mouth with unrelenting joy.

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Later on that afternoon found Mike and Kasumi climbing out of his old truck at one of the several malls in the area. They had both decided that it would work to their advantage if they continued on like they were unaware of the second clan tracking her. It would allow them to get relaxed, comfortable, and hopefully sloppy.

Once inside though, it was hard to remember that Kasumi was a runaway ninja. She floated from store to store, dragging Mike along behind her. After grumbling his way through several, he jabbed a finger at the book store, and for once dragging her with him as he saw a new book from one of his favorite authors.

As they left the store, one shop in particular caught Kasumi's eye, one she had not noticed as Mike had drug her by it and to the bookstore. They crossed the veritable sea of people, and into a small shop with a decidedly Asian flare. Large statues of golden cats waved at them as they walked in, while incense invaded their sense of smell.

Kasumi walked along, her hands gently gracing over nearly everything she could touch, as if to try to burn it into her memory, while Mike just followed along smiling. A smile crossed her face as she ran her hand over a table with an oriental flare to it, before picking up a short sword similar to her own.

"Wow," she complimented, "Usually you see decorative swords in places like this. It is not the greatest of makes, but this is a functional blade."

"Why thank you, young lady," an older voice came from next to her. The kunoichi nearly dropped the blade, surprised by the utter silence the old man had come up on her in. She had not even felt or heard the slightest notion of his presence before he spoke. Her mind turned to wonder…

"It's not often someone can pick out the difference between a true blade and our decorative ones," he continued. "Takes quite the accomplished eye."

Kasumi read through the blatant flattery that was him trying to make the sale, and continued on through the store.

Mike just laughed, and motioned out the front door. He let Kasumi know he would be waiting out in front of the store.

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The old shopkeeper watched the young lady walk out the front of his store, looking at the hand-written note in his hand. A very specific blend of tea, one that he had assured her that he could get for her, but one that gave more away than most would know. He shuffled over to the phone on the counter, stopped to think for a minute, then slowly let his fingers find the numbers.

The phone at the other end rang only once before it was retrieved, only silence coming from the other end.

"Master Ryu," the shopkeep spoke into the receiver, "I have some news you may find… interesting."

_A/N: So I don't plan on this being a slow, easy-style story forever. I might need another chapter or two to really light things up, but I'm really thinking the next one will be more than just two people chasing one another around._

_I dunno, we'll see what happens. Sorry for the long pause in getting the next chapter up, I got myself a beta reader, so hopefully there should be a better flow going into things now.  
_


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